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Sarah J. Maas

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“Celaena knew where she was before she awoke. And she didn't care. She was living the same story again and again. The night she'd been captured, she'd also snapped, and come so close to killing the person she most wanted to destroy before someone knocked her out and she awoke in a rotting dungeon. She smiled bitterly as she opened her eyes. It was always the same story, the same loss.”

“I scrubbed at my face. Perhaps it was the quiet, the hollowness of the past few days- perhaps it was only that I no longer had to think hour to hour about how to keep my family alive, but... it was regret, and maybe shame, that coated my tongue, my bones. I shuddered, as if I could fling it off, and kicked back the sheets to rise from the bed.”

“So Hunt pulled back. Stared into his mate's beautiful face for the last time. He laughed softly, a sound of wonder at odds with the crystal throne room and the monsters in it. "I love you. I wish I'd said it more. But I love you, Quinlan, and..." His throat closed up, his eyes stinging. His lips brushed her brow. "Our love is stronger than time, greater than any distance. Our love spans across stars and worlds. I will find you again. I promise.”

“You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.' He squeezed my hands. 'If you ever escape, ever convince them that you've paid the debt, don't return.' I hadn't expected a heart-wrenching good-bye, but I hadn't imagined this, either. 'Don't ever come back,' my father said, releasing my hands to shake me by the shoulders. 'Feyre.' He stumbled over my name, his throat bobbing. 'You go somewhere new- and you make a name for yourself.”

“I looked at him finally. His membranous wings were out- tucked behind him- but his hands and feet were normal, no talons in sight. 'What do you want?' It didn't come out with the snap I'd intended. Not as I remembered how he'd fought, again and again, to attack Amarantha, to save me. 'Just to say good-bye.' A warm breeze ruffled his hair, brushing tendrils of darkness off his shoulders. 'Before your beloved whisks you away forever.' 'Not forever,' I said, wiggling my tattooed fingers for him to see. 'Don't you get a week every month?' Those words, thankfully, came out frosty. Rhys smiled slightly, his wings rustling and then settling. 'How could I forget?”

“Go into her mind to take the pain away," Madja said to Rhys, who blinked in confirmation, the cursed, as if scolding himself for not thinking of it sooner. Cassian looked across the bed, to where Elain was holding Feyre's other hand, and Nesta held Elain's. Rhys said to his mate, "Feyre darling-" "No good-byes," Feyre panted. "No good-byes, Rhys.”

“We can use your room if you like, but...' He was leaning against his open bedroom door. 'Either your room or mine- but we're sharing one from now on. Just tell me whether I should move myh clothes or yours. If that's all right with you.' 'Don't you- you don't want your own space?' 'No,' he said baldly. 'Unless you do. I need you protecting me from our enemies with your water wolves.' I snorted. He'd made me tell him that part of my tale over and over. I jerked my chin toward his bedroom. 'Your bed is bigger.' And that was that. I walked in to find my clothes already there, a second armoire now beside his. I stared at all the open space around us.”

“I can tell you about my mother, and how her death nearly destroyed me. I can tell you in detail about what I did afterward, and what that cost me. I can tell you about the decade it took me to work through it. I can tell you how many days and nights I suffered during the forty-nine years Amarantha held Rhys captive, the guilt tearing me apart that I wasn't there to help him, that I couldn't save him. I can tell you how I still look at him and know I'm not worthy of him, that I failed him when he needed me- that fact drags me from sleep sometimes. I can tell you I've killed so many people I've lost count, but I remember most of their faces. I can tell you how I hear Eris and Devlon and the others talk and, deep down, I still believe that I am a worthless bastard brute. That it doesn't matter how many Siphons I have or how many battles I've won, because I failed the two people dearest to me when it mattered the most.' She couldn't find the words to tell him that he was wrong. That he was good, and brave, and- 'But I'm not going to tell you all of that,' he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The wind seemed to pause, the sunlight on the lake brightening. He said, 'I am going to tell you that you will get through it. That you will face all of this, and you will get through it. That these tears are good, Nesta. These tears mean you care. I am going to tell you that it is not too late, not for any of it. And I can't tell you when, or how, but it will get better. What you feel, this guilt and pain and self-loathing- you will get through it. But only if you are willing to fight. Only if you are willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it, to emerge on the other side of it. And maybe you will still feel that tinge of pain, but there is another side. A better side. She pulled back from his chest then. Found his gaze lined with silver. 'I don't know how to get there. I don't think I'm capable of it.' His eyes glimmered with pain for her. 'You are. I've seen it- I've seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself? Don't say you don't deserve it.' He gripped her chin. 'Everyone deserves happiness. The road there isn't easy. It is long, and hard, and often travelled utterly blind. But you keep going.' He nodded to the mountains and lake. 'Because you know the destination will be worthwhile.' She stared up at him, this male who had walked with her for five days in near-silence, waiting, she knew, for this moment. She blurted, 'All the things I've done before-' 'Leave them in the past. Apologise to who you feel the need to, but leave those things behind.' 'Forgiveness is not that easy.' 'Forgiveness is something we also grant ourselves. And I can talk to you until these mountains crumble around us, but if you don't wish to be forgiven, if you don't want to stop feeling this way... it won't happen.' He cupped her cheek, calluses scraping against her overheated skin. 'You don't need to become some impossible ideal. You don't need to become sweet and simpering. You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look- which is my favourite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don't want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.' 'But I still don't know how to fix myself.' 'There's nothing broken to be fixed.' he said fiercely. 'You are helping yourself. Healing the parts of you that hurt to much- and perhaps hurt others, too.' Nesta knew he wouldn't have ever said it, but she saw it in his gaze- that she had hurt him. Many times. She'd known she had, but to see it again in his face... She lifted her hand to his cheek and laid it there, too drained to are about the gentleness of the touch. Cassian nuzzled into her hand, closing his eyes. 'I'll be with you every step of the way,' he whispered into her palm.”

“Cassian's arm shook, and Nesta braced herself for the blow, showing him her forgiveness, her unending, unbreakable love for him- But Cassian roared. And then the knife twisted in his hand, angling not toward her, but toward his own heart. Of his own free will. Against the Crown's hold, against a gasping Briallyn, he chose to drive the knife into his own heart. Kill, she had said. But had not specified who. And as the sun broke over the horizon, as Cassian's knife plunged for his chest, Nesta erupted with the force of the Cauldron.”

“You gave everything, Rhys. You went through that hell for us, for fifty years.' He'd never addressed it- not fully. 'You think I don't know what happened? I know, Rhys. We all do. And we know you did it to save us, spare us.' He shook his head, sunlight glinting off that dark, winged helmet. 'Let us return the favour. Let us repay the debt.' 'There is no debt to repay.' Rhys's voice broke. The sound of it cracked my heart. Cassian's own voice broke as he said, 'I never got to repay your mother- for her kindness. Let me do it this way. Let me buy you time.' 'I can't.' I wasn't sure if in the entire history of Illyria, there had ever been such a discussion.' 'You can,' Cassian said gently. 'You can, Rhys.' He gave a lazy grin. 'Save some of the glory for the rest of us.' 'Cassian-”

“Before I could warn Azriel to hurry, the other two hounds were on me. One leaped right for me. I lifted my bow to intercept its jaws. The hound snapped it in two, hurling the wood away. I grabbed for a knife, just as the second one leaped- A roar deafened me, made my head ring. Just as one of the hounds was thrown off me. I knew that roar, knew- A golden-furred beast with curling horns tore into the hounds. 'Tamlin,' I got out, but his green eyes narrowed. Run, he seemed to say. That was who had been running alongside us. Trying to find us. He ripped and shredded, the hounds launching themselves wholly on him.”

“You needed not to be alone. But what about him? Fifty years he'd been separated from his friends, his family... I said, 'You let Amarantha and the entire world think you rule and delight in a Court of Nightmares. It's all a front- to keep what matters most safe.' The city lights gilded his face. 'I love my people, and my family. Do not think I wouldn't become a monster to keep them protected.' 'You already did that Under the Mountain.' The words were out before I could stop them. The wind rustled his hair. 'And I suspect I'll have to do it again soon enough.' 'What was the cost?' I dared ask. 'Of keeping this place secret and free?' He shot straight down, wings beating to keep us smooth as we landed on the roof of the town house. I made to step away, but he gripped my chin. 'You know the cost already.' Amarantha's whore.”

“When she tricked me out of my powers and left the scraps, it was still more than the others. And I decided to use it to tap into the minds of every Night Court citizen she'd captured, and anyone who might know the truth. I made a web between all of them, actively controlling their minds every second of every day, every decade, to forget about Velaris, to forget about Mor, and Amren, and Cassian, and Azriel. Amarantha wanted to know who was close to me- who to kill and torture. But my true court was here, ruling this city and the others. And I used the remainder of my powers to shield them all from sight and sound. I had only enough for one city, one place. I chose the one that had been hidden from history already. I chose, and now must live with the consequences of knowing there were more left outside who suffered. But for those here.... anyone flying or travelling near Velaris would see nothing but barren rock, and if they tried to walk through it, they'd find themselves suddenly deciding otherwise. Sea travel and merchant trading were halted- sailors became farmers, working the earth around Velaris instead. And because my powers were focused on shielding them all, Feyre, I had very little to use against Amarantha. So I decided that to keep her from asking questions about the people who mattered, I would be her whore.' He'd done all of that, had done such horrible things... done everything for his people, his friends. And the only piece of himself that he'd hidden and managed to keep her from tainting, destroying, even if it meant fifty years trapped in a cage of rock....'' Those wings now flared wide. How many knew about those wings outside of Velaris or the Illyrian war-camps? Or had he wiped all memory of them from Prythian long before Amarantha? Rhys released my chin. But as he lowered his hand, i gripped his wrist, feeling the solid strength. 'It's a shame,' I said, the words nearly gobbled up by the sound of the city music. 'That others in Prythian don't know. A shame that you let them think the worst.' He took a step back, his wings beating the air like mighty drums. 'As long as the people who matter most know the truth, I don't care about the rest. Get some sleep.' Then he shot into the sky, and was swallowed by the darkness between the stars.”

“I'm not ill like that,” she groaned. He sat on her bed, peeling back the blanket. A servant entered, frowning at the mess on the floor, and shouted for help. “Then it what way?” “I,uh...” Her face was so hot she thought it would melt onto the floor. Oh you idiot. “My monthly cycles finally came back!” His face suddenly matched hers and he stepped away, dragging his hand through his short hair. “I-if...Then I'll take my leave,” he stammered, and bowed. Celaena raised an eyebrow, and then, despite herself, smiled as he left the room as quick as his feet could go without running, tripping slightly in the doorway as he staggered into the rooms beyond.”

“Cassian nuzzled into her hand, closing his eyes. 'I'll be with you every step of the way,' he whispered into her palm. 'Just don't lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I'm fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it.' She stroked a thumb over his cheekbone, marvelling at him- the words and his beauty. Some essential piece of herself clicked into place. Some piece that whispered, Try. Cassian opened his eyes, and they were so lovely they nearly stole the breath from her. Nesta leaned forward until their brows touched. And despite all that brimmed in her heart, all that flowed through her body, sure and true, she merely whispered, 'Thank you.”

“Go back to the house.' 'I will,' he said, flashing a grin again. 'After I drop you off at your front door.' At that piece-of-shit apartment she insisted on living in. Across the city. Nesta's eyes- the same as Feyre's and yet wholly different, sharp and cold as steel- went to his hands. What was in them. 'What is that.' Another grin as he lifted the small, wrapped parcel. 'Your Solstice present.' 'I don't want one.' Cassian continued past her, tossing the present in his hands. 'You want this one.' He prayed she would. It had taken him months to find it. ... 'I don't want anything from you.' He made himself arch an eyebrow. 'You sure about that, sweetheart?”

“Cassian was sleeping in a chair beside her bed. His head was at an awkward angle, and his wings drooped onto the stone- and he was wearing only his undershorts and a blanket that looked as if someone had draped it over his lap. ... She stared at him for long minutes, the unusual paleness of his face, the brows still clenched with worry, as if he fretted for her, even in sleep. The sun gilded his dark hair and shone through his wings, bringing out the undertones of reds and golds in both. Like a knight guarding his lady. She couldn't stop the image, sprung from the pages of her childhood books. Like a warrior-prince, with those tattoos and that muscle-bound chest. Her throat tightened unbearably, her eyes stinging. She would not let herself cry, not for herself or for the sight of him keeping watch beside her bed all night. But it was as if her furious blinking woke him, as if he could hear the flutter of her lashes. His hazel eyes shot to hers, like he always knew precisely where she was. And they were so full of worry, of that unrelenting goodness, that she had to fight like hell to keep the tears from falling. Cassian said gently. 'Hey.' She clamped down on herself. 'Hello.' 'Are you all right?' 'Yes.' No. Though not for the reason he believed. 'Good.' He groaned, stretching, first his arms and then his wings. Muscles rippled. 'You want to talk about it?' 'No.' 'That's fine.' And that was that. But Cassian threw her a half smile, and it was so normal, so him in a way that no one else was or would ever be, that her throat tightened again. 'You want breakfast?' Nesta managed to answer his half smile with one of her own. 'I like your priorities, general.”

“Cassian strode in, a tray of food in hand, and halted when he didn't find her on the bed. His eyes shot to the sunken pool, and she could have sworn he almost dropped the tray onto the white carpet. 'I... You.' His loss of words was enough to pull her from her thoughts, to curve the corners of her mouth upward. 'Me?' He shook his head like a wet dog. 'I bought some food. I assumed you'd want dinner.' 'There's no dining room?' 'There is, but I thought you might need to unwind.' She surveyed him, surprised that he knew her well enough to guess that the thought of speaking to everyone again, of dressing in suitable clothes, was draining- miserable. Knew her well enough to grasp that she'd rather eat in her room and piece herself together.”

“Paint,' I said, barely more than a breath. He cocked his head and I swallowed, squaring my shoulders. 'If- if it's not too much to ask, I'd like some paint. And some brushes.' Tamlin blinked. 'You like- art? You like to paint?' His stumbling words weren't unkind. It was enough for me to say, 'Yes, I'm not- not any good, but if it's not too much trouble... I'll paint outside, so I don't make a mess, but-' 'Outside, inside, on the roof- paint wherever you want. I don't care,' he said. 'But if you need paint and brushes, you'll also need paper and canvas.' 'I can work- help around the kitchen or in the garden- to pay for it.' 'You'd be more of a hindrance. It might take a few days to track them down, but the paint, the brushes, the canvas, and the space are yours. Work wherever you want. The house is too clean, anyway.' 'Thank you- I mean it, truly. Thank you.' 'Of course.”

“I look at the pool of glittering starlight and let out a heavy breath. I needed to change the subject. 'What would happen if I were to drink the water?' Tamlin straightened a bit- then relaxed, as if glad to release that old sadness. 'Legend claims you'd be happy until your last breath.' He added, 'Perhaps we both need a glass.' 'I don't think that entire pool would be enough for me,' I said, and he laughed. 'Two jokes in one day- a miracle sent from the Cauldron,' he said. I cracked a smile. He came a step closer, as if forcibly leaving behind the dark, sad stain of what had happened to Lucien, and the starlight danced in his eyes as he said. 'What would be enough to make you happy?' I blushed from my neck to the top of my head. 'I- I don't know.' It was true- I'd never given that sort of thing any thought beyond getting my sisters safely married off and having enough food for me and my father, and time to learn to paint. 'Hmm,' he said, not stepping away. 'What about the ringing of bluebells? Or a ribbon of sunshine? Or a garland of moonlight?' He grinned wickedly. High Lord of Prythian indeed. High Lord of Foolery was more like it.”

“So I'm to live here forever, in ignorance of the true scope of what's happening? If you don't want me to understand what's going on... would you rather...' I swallowed hard. 'Rather I found someplace else to live? Where I'm not a distraction?' 'Didn't Calanmai teach you anything?' 'Only that magic makes you into a brute.' He laughed, though not entirely with amusement. When I remained silent, he sighed. 'No, I don't want you to live somewhere else. I want you here, where I can look after you- where I can come home and know you're here, painting and safe.' I couldn't look away from him.”

“His eyes were the colour of a sky I'd never see again if I refused to kill him, a colour I'd never get out of my mind, never forget no matter how many times I painted it. He shook his head, those eyes growing so large the white showed all around. He would never see that sky, either. And neither would these people, if I failed.”